Author Archives: Jack

Still in Romania, we Escapees find that our crack logistics department has us parked up in a huge paved but rough and tilted public lot. I would imagine the rain drainage would be quite good. We’ve got the leveling ramps out but things aboard EV remain a touch askew. Typically in Romania one can experience one of those “On the Beach” moments when a place seems abandoned, with very few people about. At least there‘re no crowds to avoid as we walk across the lot to the Saints Constantine and Helena Cathedral.

It’s handsome without being ostentatious until you see the four beautiful ancient carved Roman columns on the side portico. 

The Romans were quite busy in this area. Come to think on it, they were busy nearly everywhere.

In the morning we hiked up to the main event in Hunedoara. Corvin Castle, high on a hill above town, can only be reached by first running the gauntlet of trinket vendors while simultaneously climbing the hill. If they notice that you’re struggling they attack like hyenas sizing-up the weakest member of the herd, because you can’t get away quickly and chances are you don’t even have the breath to say, “NO.”

Still climbing across this magnificent bridge and through the gate.

Entering through the main gate you arrive in one of the most interesting and tilted courtyards I’ve ever seen. The rock substrate bulges through the level of the pavers making for an especially wobbly ankle buster.

The construction was begun in 1440 but it’s often difficult to know what is part of the original fortification. After the fourth and most modern phase of construction Corvin Castle is considered one of Europe’s largest castles. Extensively restored, maybe even reimagined, it’s difficult to know where the “real” starts or stops.

In 1458 the second phase of construction was initiated . This unassuming doorway is the entrance to the Knights Hall.

A long hallway leads to the oldest section of the original castle.

Tower stairs.

The castle has its own app and Marce has been using it to guide us through the joint. It sorta works. After getting lost for quite some time we found ourselves down at the well. Legend has it that the Voivode of Transylvania, ruler of the castle, proposed to his Turkish prisoners that whoever digs a well and finds water will earn his freedom. Three prisoners volunteered. The castle was built on solid rock, so fifteen years later the three finally reached water. By this time the Voivode had died and his wife now ruled in his place. She feared that the three, now old men, knew too many of the secrets of the castle so she sentenced them instead to death. I suppose there’s a lesson in the tale.

What an interesting castle but Schengen never sleeps so we’ve got to move on.

It’s an unassuming approach to the border crossing between Hungry and Romania. This is our first hard border since Calais, even though on paper both countries are Schengen and as such this ought to be a soft border. It’s easy peasy if you enter via air or sea, but on land they still have this foreboding inspection facility, so what the hell, it’s business as usual.

You just know you’re going to get the full Monty inspection of all the official forms and papers you have and especially close scrutiny of your face against the picture in your passport. No smile, no welcome into their country like we’ve become accustomed to. They weren’t happy with our proof of insurance, but they didn’t stop us either. I guess old Soviet-satellite habits die hard. I took a beat before I dropped Escape Velocity into gear just to quiet the heart down. [As of January 2025 this is now a soft border.]

We noticed immediately that these were not going to be the Hungarian roads we were used to, but poorly maintained in comparison.

By afternoon we rolled into Bulgarus, which for 150 years was my paternal ancestors’ home town.

I think It’s safe to say I am not to the manor born.

Just finding Bulgarus was a major goal. Generation after generation of my ancestors were recorded in the parish records, and finally we’re here.

A lot of the German families began leaving the area in the early 1900s, both for economic reasons, and because Hungary threatened to force cultural assimilation and military service. Recruiters from the United States enlisted workers for the steel mills in the Midwest. That’s how my grandfather and most of his family ended up in and around Pittsburgh.

Many of the Donauschwaben families remained but World War I and World War II took a toll on any goodwill Romania may have felt toward Germans.

By the 1970’s Nickolas Ceausescu’s nationalist threat of “Romania for Romanians” put paid to what was left of any ethnic Germans. The German government paid Ceausescu 60,000 marks per person to buy their freedom from this communist nation. Ceausescu’s cult of personality soon lost its charm and in a popular uprising he and his wife were arrested by the military while trying to escape in a helicopter. Their personality ended with a firing squad.

I haven’t unpacked what it all means but it’s evident squatters have taken over and stripped many of the abandoned buildings. We watched a Roma woman fetch water from the graveyard tap and carry it back to the derelict house she was apparently living in. On her way past the van she stuck out her hand for money.

Like their roads Romanian graveyards have been left to their own devices.

The overgrowth made hunting for specific names on old worn tombstones exhausting in the oven of Romanian summer heat.

I’m sure Bulgarus was a much more pleasant town in the early 1900’s but poor ground is poor ground and ethnic tension is ethnic tension.

When one finds oneself in the Auschwitz parking lot sitting at the operations office table in Escape Velocity after a rough day, physically and mentally, you can expect some simple solutions. Our short term goal is Budapest. Laying a ruler on a map from Auschwitz to Budapest will describe the in-depth planning going on. It’s the Keep-It-Simple-Stupid plan.

The eagle-eyed Escapees among you will notice that Slovakia is directly in our  path, but we weren’t in the mood for details. We do know that Slovakia uses the Euro. And we know we’ll have to buy insurance when we arrive at the Turkish border and we’ll have to pay in Euros. We have only zloty and koruna, and too little to exchange for Euros. It’s been a real surprise to find so many EU countries that are not using the Euro, and as far as we can tell Slovakia is the last country we’ll transit before Turkey where we can get Euros. So our only goal for Slovakia is to find an ATM and get a pile of Euros before driving to Hungary.

It’s raining and Marce found a small parkup on our route, but it’s quite tilted and a tight squeeze. We got out the ramps and made it work.

We awoke to a light rain tapping out a tune on the roof and cornflakes with coffee. On our navigation screen I noticed a purple dot almost overlaid on our own position cursor, which means there’s some kind of heritage item of interest near by. The rain lightened up so I hopped out of Escape Velocity but all I could see was a small forested village nestled in a mountainous terrain. I walked around for a few minutes. Turning around I happened to look up and my jaw bounced off the pavement. Three hundred fifty feet up was a castle in the scudding clouds, perched on a rocky outcrop.

I fetched Marce and we tried to find out how to get up there. Sure enough, down the street I could see a small hut which is probably going to house a ticket office. When we asked, the woman in the ticket kiosk just pointed up an impossibly steep, slippery, cobbled, ankle wobbler of a path.

Marce more than hung in there. 

Finally we made it to the permanent slippery draw bridge at the entrance.

If this place looks at all familiar it turns out it’s probably because this castle stood in for Count Orlok’s Transylvanian Castle in the 1922 film Nosferatu. I’d say it was well chosen. It has a creepy Eagle’s Nest kind of vibe.

The original wooden fortification was built up here on this rocky outcrop in 1241 in the kingdom of Hungary, after the Mongol sacking of Oravsky Podzamok. Borders, names and people moved and changed around a lot back then. (Come to think of it, they still do. My family couldn’t even answer the question, “Where are you from?” without a ten minute history lesson which was impossible to comprehend. I don’t think even they fully understood it.)

Where was I? Oh yes, the tunnel.

We are constantly climbing.

Marce gets the Eagle’s Nest Medal.

What goes up must come down. This is where the slippery part really came into play.

We moved Escape Velocity from the tilted parking lot down to a more level place by the river just as the rain resumed.

We find ourselves in the land of Rubik’s cube. I don’t know why Kraków’s claim to fame is the Rubik’s Cube; after all, Erno Rubik was Hungarian. I guess it’s just how they roll in the Baltics. They never could get along. I don’t know what to expect of Krakow but after Prague, the Poles are going to have to really bring it, but then that would be a clear violation of Rule #2 (don’t get jaded.)

Krakow was one of the first listed UNESCO World Heritage Sites so let’s just agree to keep an open mind and enjoy this green leafy circular belt around the old walled city called the Planty. 

The  green border was created by filling in the surrounding moat and planting this green lovely garden, which brings us to the one of the original seven fortified city gates.

This place has a family fun sort of vibe but as soon as we headed towards the old central plaza — at some  40,000 sq meters it’s said to be the largest in Europe — we ran into this torture museum. 

We could never determine if they were for it or against it. 

Even the buskers are a little unusual.

After winding through Kraków’s medieval streets we gained the old town central plaza.

Yeah, it’s plenty big but we instantly found ourselves engulfed in a demonstration. It was the first of many we witnessed in Europe during the summer of 2024.

Streetside, at a quiet cafe for lunch, once again we were treated to a demonstration, this one for Ukraine.

I’d say they’re for Ukraine but against incarceration. When you grow up in the 1960’s you get a feel for these kinds of things.

These two are famous mathematicians and I think they’re hashing out a new Babach-Nicodym Theorem. Why everyone thinks it’s good luck to rub their hands is beyond me. At least it just their hands.

Just off the main plaza we found the impressive St. Mary’s Basilica.

Back on the plaza we plunge into the market, which was once a very long building called Cloth Hall.

After a half mile long shopping experience, creeping along past one vendor after another, we decided to take a break with a stroll along the Vistula River. 

It’s not every day that you come face to face with a mechanized fire breathing dragon.

Finally we saw a corner of the Wawel Royal Castle overlooking the river.

I often wonder whether these fortifications are meant to protect the nabobs from their subjects or their subjects from folks like the Tatars who in 1241 sacked and destroyed the entire town.

Once again we wandered the streets of Krakow.

A quick stop for authentic Polish food.

We liked Krakow, and it makes us wish we’d planned to spend more time in other places in Poland. But we have an appointment tomorrow with evil, so it’s time to move along.

They do things a little differently here in Czechia. For instance, the basement of my church in Pittsburgh was home to Sunday school, a hanging wardrobe for choir robes, and (my personal favorite) the annual strawberry shortcake festival.

In Sedlec they use the basement for a different purpose. The first clue was the entrance.

Of course to protect the sanctity of their basement no photos are allowed but as I’ve said before, accidents do happen, and when making clever objets d’ art out of one’s ancestors and then charging the Philistines coin of the realm, which in this case is not the Euro but something called Czech koruna, you’ve got to expect a fair amount of curiosity seekers. After all, it’s featured in Atlas Obscura. At least that’s where we found it. (Official photos here.)

Saint Mary’s perched on top, turns out to be a lovely chapel. 

One last shot of the forbidden ossuary from the upper floor of the chapel.

Please tell me that this is not the owners car, parked out front.

Down the road apiece is the UNESCO-listed Church of the Assumption of Our Lady and Saint John the Baptist. We only ducked in because it was included in our ticket for the ossuary but the interior took us by surprise. The original church, built about 1300 in High Gothic style, burned down in 1421. From 1700 to 1708 it was rebuilt in the Baroque Gothic style. The high vaulted ceiling takes your breath away.

They’ve got their own bones here, as well as relics of Vincent of Saragossa.

So let’s see what other oddities we can dig up in the land of the koruna.

The riverside settlement now known as Prague has been occupied since the Paleolithic times due to trade routes that follow the Vitava River which meanders through the center of town. By 880 Czech Prince Borivoj moved into town and built Prague Castle overlooking the burgeoning town. It’s still considered the largest castle in the world. Yours Truly will agree it’s one of the larger numbers to have to walk around.

The first stone bridge over the Vitava River was built in 1170, known as the Judith. It collapsed in 1342. A new bridge replaced the Judith in 1357, and it’s still in use today and known as the Charles Bridge. This time they wisely chose to model it after the Old Stone bridge in Regensburg.

Prague is not one of those towns that slowly ramps up into a genuine destination as you walk in. No, it hits you straight between the eyes from the get-go.

I don’t care how jaded you are, this place does not disappoint and the crowds attest to that, but no matter how crowded, you can always find a narrow secluded and cobbled alleyway with copious quirky hidden treasures.

In a new Escape Velocity exclusive tip; ignore the sea of humanity standing shoulder to shoulder at the astronomical animated clock, known as the Orloj.

At noon grab a table at one of the bars across from the clock, order a pint of icy Pilsner Urquel and enjoy the show. We did this the third time we found ourselves in the neighborhood, and it works a charm. My kind of place.

Marce was here forty years ago when Prague was still behind the iron curtain and predictably she says it’s changed a lot. As in, there are way more people now.

It should come as no surprise that there’s no end to the myths surrounding the Orloj. For one, if the clock stops for any length of time a curse is activated, the skeleton continues to nod his head, and bad luck follows until the clock is running again.

Legend has it that the clockmaker Hanus was blinded by order of the town council so that he wouldn’t be able to repeat the secrets of the Orloj. That last one may be apocryphal. There’s another one about the Golem that Rabbi Loew made from Vitava River mud, but I’m just not going there.

Does Prague have any palaces you ask? The place is lousy with them. This one is the Kaiserstein Palace.

And across the street, St. Nicholas Church.

Not to put too fine a point on it, after this church we felt our eyes needed a rest. A short discussion later and it was unanimous for ice cream. Strolling down one of those narrow cobbled lanes in the back water of Prague you can imagine our surprise.

Giving order to the cosmos and celestial flavors as well, that Kepler was truly a renaissance man. Naturally we cast about trying to find the Clementium where Kepler did a lot of his work. Through another hole in the wall, of course, we found the Astronomical Tower and Baroque library, founded in 1556, said to be the most beautiful library in the world, housing some 27,000 of the earliest printed books including Kepler’s handwritten work. Einstein taught here and Mozart played here many times.

After wandering about the several ton bronze statue of Atlas perched on top of the astronomical tower we started to climb the stairs.

However, one is only allowed to gaze at the dimly-lit Baroque Library through its open doors. It is the most beautiful library I have ever seen.

More stairs, steps, and ladders and we entered the astronomical room to see some of the instruments used by Tycho Brahe and Kepler.

Onward and upward.

The twin spires of our Lady before Tyne, over our left shoulder, is where Tyco Brahe is said to be buried. How hard could it be to find a twin spire church in Prague? We’re keen to find out. I mean what could possibly go wrong?

It took a while but we weren’t leaving without a visit. Across the old town square and maybe a couple of zig-zags and Bob’s your uncle.

Using Tycho’s meticulous observations Kepler was eventually able to discover that the earth and planets travel around the sun in elliptical orbits, not circular, as astronomers believed before. I think it’s safe to say the two of them revolutionized the way we understand our solar system.

Prague was so much fun, from beginning to end. But now it’s time to move on.

One gets that tingly feeling when considering that hundreds of years ago one’s ancestors floated under this same stone bridge on a barge loaded with everything they possessed. Courageous or just desperate, they cast their fate with leaders who had empty promises and dubious agendas. 

My only problem is that it was a hike just to get from our parkup to the old walled town of Regensburg on the Danube River. It was originally a Stone Age Celtic settlement and around about 90 AD the Romans built a fortification beside the river. You can still see the remnants. In 1135 the magnificent 16 arch stone bridge was erected and is still considered a marvel of medieval engineering. That’s where we’re headed right now.

Access through the wall is at the Watchtower Gate

And here’s the medieval stone bridge, said to be the model for the Charles bridge in Prague.

Twin spires of St. Peter’s Cathedral.

Porta Praetoria, remains of ancient Roman fortifications.

These brass plaques are called “stumbling stones” and are embedded in front of houses where people lived who were seized, deported, and murdered by the Nazis. It’s an ongoing project with stones in most European countries. It’s considered the largest memorial in the world.

We’re in Kepler Land which makes Marce happy. She calls him one of her heroes.

Lovely Trinity Church

Regensburg has been an awesome surprise, showing little war damage. But we’ve got a long way to go so it’s back to the bus for the Escapees.

Today’s cheeky parkup is through a hole in the wall. Well on its way to ruin, the parking lot appears to belong to an ex military administration building.

The walls show the pockmarked scars of war. It’s hard to decide if the squatters are moving in or are being forced out. We decide to reconnoiter because we’re hungry, it’s France and there’s a good chance of there being a patisserie in town.

We happen upon a large paved open town square in this tidy town, where small businesses have gathered on the periphery. The square is dominated by a large cathedral featuring flying buttresses and a strange flat topped bell tower whose spire must have topped over at some point.

From across the square Yours Truly spied what might be that patisserie mentioned earlier. Turned out to be the real thing.

After touring the town for a while and discussing what we might scrounge up for dinner from the larder in EV, we both came up with the solution, take out pizza. Yeah I know, doesn’t everybody come to France for pizza? Phalsbourg is not a nightlife kind of town.

So just when we began reaccesing our situation we turned a corner and a tiny shop was just opening up.

It’ll be a few minutes for the wood fire to heat up.

Wood fired pizza in a tiny town in northern France! Kismet. 

It was getting dark now and we were determined to eat at home so it was a quick trip across the square with time out for one last shot.

At first blush the uninitiated would opine that getting to Dinant, Belgium couldn’t be easier. You just follow the Meuse River and stop when you get there, easy-peasy, but that ignores this:

When your home is a gracefully aging six meter long motorhome, facing squeezing through the eye of the needle can be a little intimidating. We passed the test but I did fold the mirrors in. 

Settled into a shady city lot allowed a leisurely afternoon stroll through this charming city. 

We soon found that Dinant has a passionate obsession with giant brightly painted saxophones.

Turns out that Adolph Sax drew his first breath not far from where we were standing and eventually, in his little shop downstairs, set about fashioning brass tubes into twisty shapes, creating a new instrument. It didn’t take long to hunt down the birth place of the saxophone.

The following sunny morning we were keen to explore the Collegiate Church of Notre Dame with its onion shaped dome under the Dinant cliffs. Maybe a little too under the rocks, because in 1227 a major chunk fell off and comprehensively smashed the small Romanesque church. All but one portal was flattened.

Of course you can’t go anywhere in Dinant without first paying homage to Adolph Sax and his giant saxophones. Eventually the church hove into view, just beyond the Meuse River and, of course, the saxophones.

It’s a pretty thing with an awkward onion shaped bell tower. The North portal apparently is the only thing that survived the…let’s agree to call it “the stoning.”

We had a meeting of the minds last night, deciding that we would find a more civilized method to get up the cliff face to the citadel because of this:

And this was it:

Not for everyone but it works for Yours Truly.

We came for the view but got an unexpected lesson in history. It seems that on this cliff top in 1051, Prince Bishopric of Liège fancied fortifying this lookout rock, which controls the strategic Meuse river far below. Certainly no one would be able to sneak up on you.

By 1815 this “impenetrable” citadel was ready for action, but in 1914 the Kaiser’s boys had just the thing: World War I. 

After being annoyed by the trenches the French built the Germans decided neutral Belgium wasn’t behaving neutral enough and blasted the town into rubble. Then they marched 674 innocent Belgium civilians out and summarily executed them. It was a horrendous war crime.

When next we see that merry band of Germans it is called World War II, and it was Erwin Rommel‘s turn to take the town. Isn’t it funny how penetrable impenetrable citadels can be? Situating a town at a strategic location seems to be an invitation for a lot of grief.

Great view, but we have to go. On the way back to Escape Velocity we happened upon these evocative sculptures that weren’t saxophones.

We’re not looking forward to another squeeze through the eye of the needle.

And here’s one last musical drain grate.

 In a rogue move, Marce found a park up without even a whiff of the fresh mown grass of a cricket pitch. Electricity thrown-in gratis, walking distance to a bus stop — happy days! — but we awoke to the rising damp of an early morning English mizzle. 

“The droghte of March had pierced to the roote.”

However, we are the Escapees and even with a bus ride and a wet saunter in the offing, we pressed on regardless. 

“And bathed every Veyne in swich Licour.”

We stepped off the bus into a modest puddle, but this charming watchtower was there to greet us in the spitting rain.

We wandered through this charming town in Kent, soaking in its quirky shops, drizzle, and cobbled alleyways until spotting our goal down an unlikely tiny alley.

“Of which vertu engendred is the flour.”

The gates of Canterbury Cathedral.

Unfortunately it seems today is a school field trip day but even that wouldn’t slow us down. 

Under repair but still magnificent, we laid the money down.

It was a considerable sum. Stepping through the beautifully sculpted door, Yours Truly found himself unable to maintain a level gaze as my focus was drawn, really, almost sucked upward until finally stopped by the extravagantly ribbed barrel vaulted ceiling far above.

Mind blown. Bear in mind this thing was built in 1070. Chaucer in his “Canterbury Tales” had his characters join a pilgrimage to this very place. We had barely stepped through the door, so good value for money as the Kiwis say.

Determined to get our money’s worth we examined every nook and cranny until we ran into these pipe organ tuners whose story had all the smalls and particulars you could imagine.

This is just a tiny practice organ. It gets tuned three times a year. The tuner, who tunes organs all over the empire, told us the big organ is tuned every month via iPad!

Deep in the bowels we found surprise after surprise.

With the sun beginning to break through we sadly had to tear ourselves away from the Cathedral to explore Canterbury a bit more.

Who knew Canterbury is the Venice of Kent?

This sums it up rather well.